


The Fee

by Dark_Frejya



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bodily Fluids, Deflowering, Double Penetration, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Manhandling, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, primal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Frejya/pseuds/Dark_Frejya
Summary: A mistake on the way home forced her to cross path with a hideous monster. Fortunately, she was rescued by two witchers, but now there was a debt to be paid and she couldn’t afford the payment. Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x OFC x Witcher Jason Momoa (Arcturus)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Jason Momoa/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	The Fee

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Geralt of Rivia or the Witcher franchise.  
> Arcturus character is based on Jason Momoa  
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed. Feedback is always nice. 🖤

Something sweet and pungent hung in the cold midnight air; like tart, burnt sugar and crusty cinnamon pastries. An odd mixture of scents to be found around the tall pines that circle the thick forest.

It was a terrible idea to walk home alone throughout the woods, especially for a woman so frail. Foolishly she missed the sunset while collecting berries at the meadow, a grievous mistake that left her stranded at dusk. Holding onto her little basket of packed fresh goods, Nell ventured through a muddy path, seeking the starlight above the canopy of succulent leaves in an attempt to find her way back to the village. Dry leaves crackled beneath her footsteps, evoking light rustles which she kept reminding herself are her own strides, yet she kept her sense sharpened to other noises that engulfed the surrounding area. 

Who knew whichever wild entities lurked in the dense fog.

Though her cautiousness bid no luck tonight. Somewhere beneath the dissonance of senses, a whisper of something ominous hailed. Nell halted in her path, swallowing at the drop of her heart. The leaves still crackled even as she froze. Those steps didn’t belong to her anymore.

Twisting her fingers around the basket’s handle, she turned around swiftly, searching frightenedly in the dark. The forest was suddenly eerily quiet, so much so that the quick drumming of her heartbeat was the only sound in her ears. 

“Who goes there?” She called out, ignoring the rise and fall of her chest.

Pesky little fireflies danced among the trees, illuminating spores and ancient bark. Her gaze followed the scant source of light, seeking for whatever prowled her. Between the shadows and the green glow, a sinister grin revealed itself. His eyes were paler than the cerulean sky, surrounded by pinkish-red tint. Ears sharp and pointy perked at each side of his head, and deep wrinkles led down to a mouth full of sharp fangs. 

“Such luck,” he spoke in what was more of a loud hiss than a man’s voice. Nell toppled back, her small hand fisting the straw-made strap as she watched him stomp forward. 

The creature stalked from the tall bushes and stretched up to his full height. He was almost as tall as the pines. 

“Such luck to stumble upon a beautiful little maiden on a night like this.” 

Nell fought the will of her body to freeze in its place and took a few more steps back, giving the creature a deep frown. “Stay away!” 

The thing laughed in three different voices, holding onto his chest as if he heard the most absurd tale; but then he paused and sniffed the air as if maddened by a possession. The corners of his lips twitched into a toothy smirk. 

“I smell the blood of a virgin. A sweet one, **indeed** a good fortune for me tonight.”

Watching his disfigured limbs stretch forward, she lifted the basket and threw it in his face, making haste through the path. Blindly she ran, gasping with effort, trying not to make a sound. Though in her mind, the notion of her premature death already resonated. 

It was tragic how the smallest mistake could end in the most violent fate. 

His twisted laughter followed her, the hiss of his voice prickling her skin as it rattled between the leaves. Throwing her head back, she attempted to see if he was on her steps when she collided with a solid wall, causing her to collapse back on her rump.

Dense and heavy, the wall grunted.

“Hmm…” A husky utter dropped from his mouth as he stepped from the shade. Flakes of gold shone in his large, bright eyes. Healing cuts marked his furrowed brow, and the long hair that framed his sharp jawline was as pale as ashes. Beneath the black leather armour, there was a broad and rigid man, almost as tall as the creature who chased her. 

Towering above her, he crooked an eyebrow, not bothering to look as he drew his generous silver sword.

A witcher, she thought. She was safe. 

Two of them, as she was surprised to find out once another man appeared behind him. Almost similar in features only a tad taller, with hair dark as dirt and a thick, somewhat long beard covering his jaw. 

They were both preternaturally handsome. The scars and wild facial hair did nothing to dim the well-defined features of their faces. 

Nell sighed with relief and crawled on the murky ground, pushing herself against an old trunk as the witchers strode forward. The one with ashen hair flared his nostrils and held up his hand as a signal for her to remain quiet while he listened to the forest. 

The vampire’s laughter became louder, trees swayed as it rushed toward the clearing; his hiss and the crackling of the leaves are now stronger than ever. With the exchange of their golden glances, the large men smirked at one another and readied themselves. Nell regarded the scene with awe, blinded by the moonlight and the orange sparks that flashed in front of her as they lifted their swords together in perfect sync. With a loud swoosh they cut the beast that ignored them and lounged straight at the screaming girl. Blood splattered across the silent trees, and the creature howled in pain at the large gashes at his torso. 

Astonished by the horrendous sight, Nell covered her mouth and watched in terror as the vampire rose on its disfigured limbs and turned to assault the witchers.

Flexing their muscles and furrowing their brows in concentration, the witchers danced around the monster in a turmoil of battle. Steel and talons clashed, grunts and howls echoed through the chaos that seemed as if it painted the forest crimson red. The vampire was infuriated at the saviours who came between him and his meal. Dashing his long claws about, he sliced at the taller man’s shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain.

Rather than folding back, the witcher swung to retaliate. 

They were skilled and agile against the brooding monster. The ashen-haired wolf was quicker and more focused with the blade while the other Witcher seemed less precise but more passionate. 

But their synergy was otherworldly; with one last swing of their swords, they beheaded the monster. Blood vaporised into mist, and his remains turned to a thick pile of cinders. 

Chest heaving, the dark-haired witcher spat on the heap and then turned to the girl with knitted brows. “You bored or something?! Walking around these woods all by your ownsies?”

His voice was as gruff and coarse as his rugged looks.

Body trembling with stupor, she wiped her damp face and opened her mouth to thank him, but the other witcher stepped in and reached out a large hand to help her stand. Darkness fell on his stubbly face, making his eyes glow like embers through black coals. There was something cold and intimidating about him, making her hesitate to accept his help. The witcher seemed to dislike her lingering and hauled her up despite her will.

A small gasp left her lips as she was forced to her feet. Their eyes abruptly met, his distinct feral beauty causing her muscles to shrivel as he stood close and held her wrist caged in a firm grip. 

“Th…thank you, witcher…” she finally manages to shake out, her bottom lip visibly quivering. 

The witcher let go of her wrist, his gaze resting on her petite form in utter silence while his colleague stepped into the clearing. Sword drawn, he hummed, looking around them for more hidden monsters. Still enraged from the heat of battle, both men fumed, their breaths heavy and loud, their battle-coarse faces feral. 

They were merely beasts themselves.

“He caught your scent when the sun came down.” The silver-haired _wolf_ finally spoke, the dark gravel in his voice even more profound than his fellow witcher’s. “Virgin’s blood, it’s irresistible to them. Makes them act wild, berserk.” 

A mischievous burn flushed through her chest, the flames climbing up her throat and circling the apples of her cheeks. Visibly, he inhaled the air, catching the whiff of the fresh, honeyed moistness that brewed between her thighs. His eyes snapped back at the young maiden, understanding why the vampire became maddened to drink her blood. 

Her purity was indeed a delight to feast upon. 

“Reckless of you to be here after sunset. Lucky Arcturus and I were hunting for a monster through these woods; the moment we saw you we knew there would be trouble,” he smirked pretentiously and sheathed his sword.

“Lucky….” The burly man growled dangerously, shooting her a glare. “Lucky for **her**. This little thoughtless behaviour cost **us** a contract, Geralt.” He paced toward her, his movements sharp, chest pumping and dark eyebrows sinking low. Arcturus, so she gathered, pointed his finger at her face though his sight was fixed on the witcher now known as Geralt. “The fucking griffin flew away while she’s been playing hide an’ seek with a fucking vampire.”

“Arcturus relax,” Geralt sighed and gave him a warning glare. “I’m sure our fair maiden has some coin to pay as gratitude for us saving her life, don’t you lass?”

Nell’s gaze immediately dropped to the ground. The only thing she had to offer was the basket of gooseberries she plucked, and even these were lost in her escape from the vampire.

“I’m sorry…I… don’t know how to pay you,” she admitted, looking at both men who didn’t seem very pleased. The silver-haired wolf pressed his finger to his dimpled chin and stroked it thoughtfully while Arcturus groaned and looked at the maiden agitatedly. 

“I’ve planned to be in a warm bed suckling on a hefty pair of tits and burying my cock in a wet cunt; and I shall have none tonight,” he complained and crossed his massive arms together. Crude and unapologetic, his stare fell on the blushing girl’s chest, and his hand reached to stroke his beard as sudden intrigue caught his attention. 

His eyes snapped at Geralt, who tilted his head and then smirked. For a moment, it seemed to Nell as if they were reading one another’s thoughts as an infectious grin began to spread between them. 

A dark glint crackled in their burning orbs, causing a twinge of danger to permeate through her hollow gut.

Arcturus’ fingers twirled around the pointy edge of his beard, his eyes never leaving the girl while a low, hoarse hum carried on his breath. His eyes stripped her to her clattering bones while he examined what stood before him. 

Not the type of woman he usually favoured, but he never minded trying different flavours.

“So no coin under these skirts, love?” He growled and chuckled at Geralt who shook his head yet hummed with amusement as he read Arcturus’ intentions. 

The air encircling her grew thicker, a mist of something savage and potent pervaded through her veins, making her flesh overflow with squeamish jitters. The beating in her chest was equal to a horse stomping its hooves at the ground and as Arcturus began pacing around, an unfamiliar sensation shot through her lower belly.

Tongue flaking over his upper lip, he appeared like a hungry wolf preparing to have his long-anticipated meal. 

Nell meant to speak again but the words died on the tip of her tongue as Geralt stepped in front of her. Rich musk invaded into the orifices of her face: the stark earthy blend of mossy tree bark, rain-damp ground, and red firewood dulled her senses, deeming her light-headed and weak.

He smelled like the night itself: dark, dangerous, and lonely. 

“There are other ways in which you can repay the favour,” he stretched huskily, his imperious glance cascading over her gaping mouth. Long fingers rose to her hair and coiled around the strands, watching the dark silk shine beneath the pale moon and silent stars. The same sweetness tickled his nose again, now mingled with something new: an undertone of coy arousal.

It was an aphrodisiac, tugging all his senses at once.

“I can smell you.” He hummed.

Nell scrutinised him with fear, but even though a part of her wanted to scuttle, her muscles became stiff and foreboding. The witcher must have had enchanting powers; she felt as if she was taken under a mighty spell, unable to move a limb and only flap her wings closer to the flame of his passion.

“We’ve saved your life, little vixen, I believe there is something you can give that will make the three of us happy,” Arcturus half-whispered as he suddenly snuck from behind, imprisoning her between Geralt and his massive form. She hissed and trembled as his knuckles ran gently down the exposed parts of her forearms. 

Turning her head and peering over her shoulder, she collided with Arcturus’ lust-riddled glare. A warm and heavy breath huffed over her temple, and his sneering teeth flashed her a hungry grin. 

“I…”

Like grapevines growing on timid tree bark, Geralt’s impudent fingers stalked up to her chin forcing her head to face him. Her glance fell on the sharp arches of his lips, and before she could register his intention he moved to ravage her mouth, stealing the innocence right off her tongue. Fire surged through her throat, lapping over her tongue as he penetrated her mouth. Arms falling slumped, her chest rose and pumped rapidly as Geralt breathed into her maw.

Watching his partner pillage the girl, Arcturus began to roam her soft body, kneading the warmth of the flesh he coveted so invigoratingly. The sword-calloused hands were rough on her curves, his touch almost possessive and unkind. Yet, it only made her moan into the other man’s mouth.

It was magic, it had to be. Deep in the abyss of her mind screams of protest begged to be let out at the rise of impending danger. Still, the unison of Geralt’s soft trail of wet kisses and Acrturus’ wild tearing of her clothes brought a damp, seething friction between her sweaty thighs. She was soaked, anticipating as if she was one of the willing whores Arcturus has mentioned. 

The sharp chant of fabric being ripped screeched in her ears and the cold night breeze brushed the plump roundness of her breasts. Nell hardly registered how the hulking grunt pushed her skirts and knickers to pile at her feet while Geralt’s tongue ventured down her neck and circled the small mountains of her breasts. Wet and slippery, he lavished her flesh and licked around her peaked nipples. 

“I think you’re already enjoying this far more than us.” Arcturus crowed and slightly backed away, beginning to work on his own attire while watching Geralt devour the sweet, willing sacrifice. A brute like him was hardly a man of culture, yet even he couldn’t deny the living art in front of him. 

A beam of pale moonlight cascaded over the naked nymph as she squirmed in the arms of the armour-clad wolf. His black leather a striking contrast against her smooth bare skin. 

Geralt descended the valley of her torso with soft lips and cutting teeth. The thin layer of his stubble marked her skin and weakened whatever defenses she still held against him. One by one, the bricks tumbled and fell, and the girl closed her eyes allowing herself to give into the darkness. For a moment she was floating beyond the stars, weightless and feet hovering above the ground. All the sounds of the forest came to life: the flapping wings of a tiny bat, the whisk of leaves by the pleasant wind, and the brush of hard-boiled leather as the witcher rid himself of his attire.

There was life beneath her skin, every cell tingling, blood streaming hot as she landed on the softest altar of the thicket bed. Cradled by the lush of damp moss, and pressed by the warmth of hard mass of muscles. 

“Open your eyes little one,” dark baritone vibrated at her temple, and she blinked wearily, smitten as the large man hovered naked above her. Even in the bleak of the night, Geralt’s colossal body shimmered like molten steel. Every sinew and chiselled muscle was defined beneath taut skin, and the bulging tendons that ran down his arms were evidence of a man carved out of rough stone. Instinctively her hands pressed to his pectorals, feeling the ridges of scars and dark hair that trailed down to his imposing cock, now pressed above her navel. 

Her breath shuddered as it flinched against her belly. It was warm, heavy, and iron-hard yet the texture of his flesh was supple as silk. 

“Don’t be scared, vixen, they don’t bite.”

Arcturus’ voice forced her head to the side. Haze and anticipation were crisp on his crooked grin while he laid on his forearm. His body was muscular and strikingly beautiful just as Geralt’s, yet surprisingly, despite the thick beard on his face he was smooth as jasper. Plains of hard flesh flowed smoothly between the murky glow that lined each heap.

Dark flames danced between golden hues while he watched the witcher and the maiden with devoted attention. The petite girl laid helpless on the ground, visibly shivering while the hulking man preyed upon her like a massive predator. Leaning on one arm, Geralt reached for his cock and began teasing the untouched petals of her womanhood, groaning as he found her slippery wet.

A soft curve formed in her belly and a hiss broke free as terror struck her. The crown of his cock taunted her sealed entrance, pushing back and forth between a slit that was too narrow for him to fit. Terrified she shook her head wordlessly but then Arcturus laid a hand on her breast and cupped it gently, running his thumb along the small ramp to soothe and distract her as Geralt breached through her maidenhood with one, long, firm and agonisingly slow plunge. 

The girl squealed so loud at the harsh pang inside her that a pack of bats flew off from the nearby trees. In her chastity her body tried to resist, squeezing him out. To which he only drove further in, grunting as her walls stretched into submission to sheath his impossible girth. 

“So fucking tight,” he cursed under his breath as the fresh walls of her canal pushed and shoved in a pitiful attempt to force away his lewd invasion. Helpless beneath him, the maiden whimpered and shook her head, eyes damp with tears while the witcher seared her from within. Geralt paused and gazed down upon her, his eyes just as penetrative as his steel. Hot and thick, he throbbed between her splitting walls and just when she thought there was no more space for him to move he suddenly delved deeper, emitting the most hoarse melodies as she split open for him.

“Geralt!” Dazed at the pain and the overwhelming sensation of something filling her void, she whimpered and squirmed beneath him, crying with protest. Her nails sliced into his solid chest, adding more scars to the collection. Growling at the crescent cuts, he began to pull away, or so she thought before he slammed into her with another heavy growl. 

“Now don’t worry, vixen,” Acrutrus crooned and leaned to lick the slope of her collarbone while Geralt shifted above her, rocking back and forth in a slow, rigid rhythm. “This will feel good in just a little bit.” 

Kissing and nipping at her breasts, the bearded man flicked his slippery tongue to lavish the hard peak of her nipple. He hummed with amusement at the bounce of her plump little breasts as she jostled on the ground with every stroke.

It must have been a dream, for she never imagined she would end her night having her flesh feasted upon by one beast while the other violated her sacred cavern. The control over her body was lost to her, usurped by Geralt. Shame spilt white and hot across her face as she gave in with unbearable ease. While lying on the soft bedding of nature, all broken and exploited, an undertone of something pleasant lurked in every jerk of Geralt’s hips that met her pelvis.

Pleasure sneaked in like a pesky little intruder, sending tiny jolts of joy tremoring through her core. 

“Feels nice little one, doesn’t it?” Geralt snarled and leaned down to capture her mouth and nibble the pillowy-plush of her bottom lip. It was a carnal spirit that swept her under his spell, bewitching her body to buck into each of his ardent thrusts in a desperate urge for more. Moans and cries fell from her gaping mouth, an inarticulate chant that only meant one thing:

More.

Arcturus watched as the girl writhed beneath Geralt, dead was the virgin and now born was the wanton whore. Face befallen into phantasm, mouth breaking into whimpers as gasps of painful pleasure fell from her lips. Fumes of envy flared through, making his brow boil. Wrapping his fingers around his hefty erection, he squeezed and stroked himself with furious vigour, intent on the sight of Geralt’s wet cock slipping in and out of her tiny cunt.

The odour of their juices wafted into the air: sweat, tears, blood, and stark arousal. His witcher senses were struck by the potent elixir, causing the beast inside him to snap. Reaching forward, he wrung Geralt’s shoulder and with all his might shoved him away. 

“Two witchers slew the beast!” He frowned and quickly climbed onto Nell, keeping her legs apart with his muscular thighs. Still shivering and heaving with desire, the young woman could hardly register what had occurred when his cock plunged into her hole.

Still spasming raw and throbbing with abandonment, her velvet canal welcomed him warmly as if he was the same man from before, wrapping over his thick shaft. Rather than refuse him, she arched and moaned with excitement as if under a trance.

Geralt did not feign but only smirked, brushing a knuckle against the dimple in his chin. He watched the girl with intrigue while she let another man fuck her so willingly. “If two witchers slew the monster, it’s only fair that two witchers will have her.” He raised an eyebrow and gestured to Arcturus to roll on his side. 

Crooking an eyebrow, the brute stilled and pulled Nell flush against him. His hand reached for her thigh, flinging her leg across his hip as he rolled them to lie on their side. Confused, she gasped and leaned onto him, holding him tightly while her hips slightly bumped to keep the slippery friction between them. 

“Wait… what are you…” She gasped with fright, feeling Geralt’s cock nudge between the cleft of her ass and his hand pried her cheeks apart. She didn’t even imagine she could be touched there when the tip pressed at her puckered little ring. 

“Just relax,” he drawled and spat on his fingers before reaching to lubricate his cock. He was already smeared in her juices, but the girl had Arcturus deep inside her little slit, he could only fantasise on how tight her rear was going to be.

“Noo… oh!” She yelped as he pushed in inch by inch, groaning with amazement as he felt the cavern of her ass threaten to battle him out. A pained scream tore through her, tears springing and her wailing carried on the wind, but Geralt quickly clasped her jaw and turned her head to capture her mouth while burying himself fully inside.

“Fuck, I love me a tight ass,” he growled as he broke from her lips, planting another chaste kiss to her damp cheek. Hearing his words made Arcturus laugh and nip at her collarbone before he took the cue from Geralt to resume his ministration. 

Sobs and yips fell from her open mouth as both men began plunging into her squeezing flesh with vamping need. Captives of desire, sucked into a sweet uncharted territory, none of them could hold back. Her lush body embraced them in, accepting every stroke with a convulsing plea for more. The White Wolf clutched his paws onto her hips, plundering her ass while Arcturus rutted her battered slit with a complete lack of delicacy. 

Both pain and pleasure mingled in her blood as she felt their flesh pulsating hot in her desecrated loins. Caged between their massive bodies, engulfed by heat and coarse muscles she burned, unable to distinguish where the cries of pain ended and where the ecstasy began. The pressure inside was otherworldly; the air whisked from her lungs, and her heartbeat quickened so much she thought it would burst.

But there was no stopping. Like a ripple set into motion, their pace only became more impassioned. Nell found herself writhing to meet each thrust like an obedient whore. Covered with a sheer layer of sweat, she gasped and reached her claws back to Geralt’s ass, urging him for more while Arcturus leaned forward and took her breasts between his teeth.

“Good, little one.” Geralt panted in her ear and wrapped his fingers around her throat. His tongue lapped over her face, collecting the saltiness of her tears. “Taking me so deep and so demanding, going to stuff your small ass full of my seed as reward.”

Amidst the shame and degradation, something dark and unfamiliar awoke in her. Foreign and more powerful than anything she ever sensed. The more Geralt and Arcturus defiled her, the more she felt herself slipping from the face of earth, and every nerve in tingling with life.

Sensing her sweet core sucking him in, Arcturus growled and suddenly snapped, slamming his hips into her with raw speed and helping her find that which was buried deep in the darkness of her soul. Geralt followed, his sack slamming against her stinging cheeks while his fingers tightened around her throat.

“Wait!” she called out breathlessly, trying to fight the foreign sensation away, fearing she may burst with the waves of fire that enkindled within her. It was like the flaming earth shattered through her core and for a moment of pure delirium, she felt as if she ascended to the sky.

The forceful suckling of her cunt around him immediately caused Arcturus to lose his focus. Howling like a ragged animal, he suddenly stilled and a hot surge of thick, warm liquid sprouted inside her womb. 

Feeling him gush inside her she whimpered, enjoying the oddly soothing warmth.

But the solace merely lasted a second. Still buried in her rump, Geralt violently hauled Nell on her knees, holding her away from Arcturus who laid spent on the ground. Chuckling huskily he watched the other witcher manhandle the wobbly girl and desperately thrust into her in search of _his_ release. 

Crying out, she braced herself on her palms, feeling them chafe against the dirt as Geralt continued his assault, lacking any tenderness. At this instant, she was nothing but a crease to be filled by him, and the thought alone pulled her into another current of intense bliss. Searing her waist with his grip and bruising her frail form with his vigour, he continued fucking her until he found his rapture and muttered an onslaught of horrifying curses. 

“Fuck!” Geralt grunted, emptying the very last drop of his pleasure into her barren land.

Heaving and panting with exhaustion, he took them back to lie on the side and carefully slipped out of her pummeled little hole. He watched as his thick milk trickled on the back of her sweat-slick thighs. His hand reached to stroke her belly and Arcturus briefly joined, passing his knuckles over her chin in comfort.

Lying naked on the damp ground, Nell shivered wildly, every nerve spasmed and the blood beat at her brow with fury while she tried to catch her breath. Shame suddenly overwhelmed her body; she covered her face with one hand while the other reached to hide her breasts.

“Aww… sweet girl,” Geralt murmured and reached to cup her mound, feeling the heat that radiated from it. He peeled her fingers from her eyes and pressed a tender kiss onto her forehead while offering her a comforting glance. “First time’s always a bit tough.”

Arcturus joined and reached his large palm to stroke her torso, smiling at her through the coarse tussle of his black beard. “I promise you the second one will be even more enjoyable,” he swore and crooked his eyebrow suggestively before lifting his gaze to Geralt. “What do you think, White Wolf? Should we keep her?”

Biting his lip, Geralt observed the look on her face intently. Her bottom lip quivered, her breath came out as tremors and little sobs. But under the glossy layer of water in her eyes, he could see the unmistakable will to descend deeper into the sinister cavern of sinful delights.

“Yes, I think we will all benefit from this arrangement.” 


End file.
